Smoke on the Horizon
by Carmen Maria
Summary: The bridges burned and the bridges built during the winter of The Strike. SLASH! Blink/Mush, Jack/Spot, Specs/Dutchy, and a wee bit of Skittery/Snoddy. (Chapter Eight Uploaded!!!)
1. Winter's in the Wings

Disclaimer and Opening Comments: Here is it, the first chapter! ::dances:: It's longer than I intended, but what can I say, I had fun typing it. Different chapters are written from different people's POV. Um, warnings. Mild swearing, smoking, and slash!! Lots and lots of slash. And yes, I realize that the odds of all these newsies being gay is next to none (more's the pity ::grins::), but it's my fic and I can twist what I want to. Flame me if you feel the need. I'm really one too many happy pills to care. And sadly, I don't own newsies. The movie would have been very different if I did.  
  
Blink-Just Another Morning  
  
"Blink, Blink. Come on, Kid, wake up, ya bum."  
  
I rolled over, resolutely ignoring the voice.  
  
"Listen, if youse don't get up, I'll push ya out."  
  
"Screw you, Race," I mumbled into my pillow. "You wouldn't dare."  
  
Suddenly, a hard shove sent me tumbling out of bed, pillow and all. My elbow smacked the floor with a crack, sending a bolt of pain up my arm. Damn, I knew there'd be a bad side to having the top bunk. Pulling the sheet off my head, I saw him running away, laughing. Ooo, Race was gonna get it now.  
  
I stood up and started to chase the idiot down, but the sheet got tangled in my feet. I tripped before I could manage three steps.   
  
Damn blanket.  
  
"Racetrack!" I yelled, yanking the sheet off my body. "You'd bettah hope Ise don't find ya! Cause when I do, you're dead!"  
  
I sprinted after the shorter boy, dodging newsies left and right. They shouted encouragement as I ran past, egging me on.  
  
"Ehy, you get 'im, Blink!"  
  
"Ooo, the Kid's mad now!"  
  
"Has anyone seen my shirt?"  
  
Well, at least some of it was encouragment.  
  
I caught up to Race fairly quickly. Ahh, the advantages when your prey is four inches shorter that you. A flying tackle brought him to the ground. Flinging him over my shoulder, I dumped him in the nearest bucket of water I could find. Ha ha, Race. And you thought you could escape.  
  
He came up spluttering and shaking his head, spewing water everywhere.  
  
"Ehy, watch it!"  
  
"Ise clean aready, I don't need anudda bath!"  
  
"Serves ya right!" I yelled, walking back to my bunk. I could practically feel the glare he was sending me. I returned to my bunk, grinning. I have to admit, I adore these mock fights with Racetrack. He reminds me of my brother, actually; my real brother. Not that I can remember Billy all that well, but I remember the games we used to play-the pillow fights in our tiny bedroom were some of the best times of my life. Until I ran away, that is. I shook my head, surprised at myself. What am I doing thinking about that? It doesn't matter what happened before I got out of that house. I left my past behind me, and that's where it's gonna stay.  
  
I grabbed my pants, jerking myself back to reality. I had them half way on when someone clapped me on the back.  
  
"G'mornin' Blink."  
  
I looked up into Mush's smiling face. Now here was a perfectly good reason not to live in the past. Why think about what happened back then when you could think about him? My best friend with the gorgeous eyes and the sweet face, the good sense of humor and the adorable expressions. Okay, so I liked him. A lot. And as more than a friend. But I know I'd never have him, even if he was...like me. Abnormal. Strange. Even if he looked at other boys the way I look at other boys. Mush was too good for me, for a scarred street rat with no future. I didn't deserve him.  
  
"Hey, how ya doin' Mush?" I asked, a little too loudly. I didn't want him knowing how pensive I was getting. Then he'd only want to cheer me up, and I'd end up telling him how I felt. So I forced the morning cheer and the big silly smile, and tried not to think about it.  
  
He wrinkled his nose.  
  
"Eh, pretty good. Prayin' we don't get rained on."  
  
I laughed and mussed his hair. Yesterday afternoon we had a huge thunderstorm, and Mush and I came back to the Lodging House soaked to the bone. "Yeah, you and me both."  
  
He walked over to the bathroom, calling out good mornings to anyone he passed. He was so nice it hurt. I watched him go, trying not to be too obvious about it. He had the most distracting habit of walking around shirtless in the morning. Not that I was complaining.  
  
"Blink? Blink! You fall asleep on your feet, Kid?"  
  
I jumped as a hand waved in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.  
  
"Oh, uh, heya Race."  
  
Race gave me an odd look from under his dripping hair. "I've been tawkin' to youse for da past minute. S'mattah wit' you?"  
  
"Mattah? Not'ing's da matter," I covered, finishing pulling up my pants. I shoved him playfully. "Maybe if youse hadn't pushed my outta bed this mornin', I'd pay more attention to ya."  
  
He didn't look convinced, but I walked away before he could ask any questions. The last thing I need is Racetrack in my love life.  
  
And speaking of pesky matchmakers...  
  
"So, Dutchy, how ya doin' today?" I asked cheerfully, throwing my arm around his shoulder.  
  
He jumped about five feet.  
  
"Whoa, Kid, youse scared me dere. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that." he berated me.  
  
I smiled. Let the games begin. "C'mon now, Dutch. I know dere must be someone you wouldn't mind coming up behind ya."  
  
The blond gave me a confused look. "Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Oh, don' play dat game wit' me," I punched him lightly in the arm. "Are youse tryin' ta tell me dat if, oh, I dunno...Specs grabbed ya from behind, you'd get upset?"  
  
Dutchy blushed bright pink. "I-I mean, uh, that is-me and Specs, we just friends-what're you tawking 'bout, Blink?"  
  
I grinned. Honestly, he's so adorable when he's flustered. I can see why Specs likes him. I mean, what's not to like? Dutchy's sweet, sensitive, and has hair to kill for. Now, if Specs actually looked in Dutchy's pretty, blue eyes, he'd know how much Dutchy liked him. And if Dutchy ever payed enough attention, he'd notice Specs staring at him constantly. But both of them were clueless, totally, completely clueless. So, I feel that it's my job to set them up. Hey, if I couldn't be happy with Mush, then at least I could make my friends happy with each other.   
  
"Ehy, Blink, are you torturing Dutchy again?" I heard Bumlets from across the room.  
  
"Oi, Bumlets, how could ya! Dat hoits, ya know? I would never torture Dutchy!" I yelled back, mock offended.  
  
Bumlets ran over, presumably cause he didn't believe me.   
  
"Leave da poor kid alone, would ya? And for god's sake, put on your own pair o' pants."  
  
I looked down. Hey, he was right! These were definately not mine. They dragged on the ground by a few inches.  
  
"Oh, well in dat case, I gotta go. See ya later, fellas."   
  
I released Dutchy (with the promise that I'd come back later), and yelled out to the rest of the newsies,  
  
"Has anyone seen my pants?!"  
  
Skittery's head popped up from behind his bed, and yelled back, "I think I might have 'em! These are too short to be mine!"  
  
I trotted back to him, taking off my current pair of pants. I tossed them at Skittery, who caught them with ease. He threw me the reject pants, and I put them on. Ahhh, much better.  
  
"T'anks, Blink. For a minute dere I thought I'd hit another growth spurt," he said .  
  
"Aww, c'mon dere, Skitts. You know I just wanna get inta your pants," I joked.  
  
He smiled. "Tempting, but I'm taken."  
  
"Damn straight," Snoddy said from behind Skittery, wrapping his arms around Skittery's waist. "But youse can play wit' us if ya really want to."  
  
I laughed outright. Coming from Snoddy, this was a definate improvement. Skittery and Snoddy had helped each other so much. Snoddy helped bring out Skittery's lighter side, convincing him to laugh and smile more. And Skittery eased Snoddy out of his constant, almost painful shyness. They were so cute together, you just had to smile.   
  
"Boys! Are you ready yet?!?!" Kloppman yelled up the stairs.  
  
Shit, we were late. I ran back to my bunk and grabbed my clothes, putting them on as I thumped down the stairs. I ran a hand through my hair, untangling it as best I could without a brush. I always tried to look as clean as I could before I went off selling. I've learned that nobody wants to buy the news from a dirty, ragged kid, and the eyepatch threw some people off already. I sighed. Hopefully, the unwashed hair and face wouldn't be too repulsive today.  
  
The chill in the air hit me as soon as we got outside. The last days of Indian Summer were gone; autumn was here to stay.   
  
***********  
  
Closing Comments: Indian Summer, for those who don't know, is a period of warm weather right before it starts to get really cold for winter. Where I live, it usually happens around the end of October, beginning of November. 


	2. Memories and Musings

Authors Notes: Yay, the second chapter!!! Um, this one's split between Race and Specs, so I'll tell you when it changes. Race's POV happens in the afternoon, and Specs's at night. And yes, Race is actually a main character, I think the only one who isn't slashed! For some odd reason, I'm convinced Race is straight...but there will definately be some slashy thoughts on Specs's part. ::grins:: The only warnings I have for this one is a faulty spellchecker. It's not working on my computer, so I'm just sorta winging it. Newsies is not my movie, unfortunately. And a huge thank you goes out to Sinhe (Madchan) for her loads of help with Specs! The IM Conversations of Doom! Dahling, you know I love you!!! ::glomp:: Go read her fic 'Foundations' for more yummy Specs/Dutchy angst. And as usual, I'm babbling. Ok, on with the fic!!   
  
Race-Of Hotdogs and Memories  
  
"Extry, Extry! Maniac kills seven! City at a standstill!"  
  
I cringed even as I said the words. This was really stretching it, even for me. The 'maniac' was actually some punk kid, and the 'seven' were rats that got left by the butcher's shop as a joke. And believe me, the city was hardly at a standstill. But hey, I gotta make a living. When it comes to selling, all bets are off, and anything goes. As long as I have a place to sleep, I don't care what I have to say. Lying is part of the job description.  
  
My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't had breakfast this morning. I glanced at my stack of papers. Well, I had most of them sold. I could take a little break.   
  
I walked over to the bar and plunked down on a stool.   
  
"Mornin' Donny. How's business?" I asked the burly bartender.  
  
He gave me his characteristic toothless smile, running his had through his greasy hair. Donny lost his two front teeth in a fight, or so he says. It wouldn't surprise me if he banged his head on an iron bar, though. Oh, don't get me wrong, Donny's a nice enough guy, but he's not one of the brightest people I've met.  
  
"First off, it's not mornin'. It's gotta be at least one by now. An' as for business, it's pretty slow on da weekdays," he said, cleaning a glass with a rag. "Now, what'll it be?"  
  
"Uh, just gimmie a hot dog or somet'in'." I replied. I knew better than to ask for beer. No one would buy anything from a drunk. The mere smell of liquor would repel people faster than you could say 'full house.'  
  
Donny gave me a hard look. "You got money?"  
  
I chuckled. "Yeah, Ise got money dis time. I'm a payin' customer today." Last month, I had ordered lunch and ran off without paying. Donny had forgiven me, but never forgotten. I'm surprised he'd done that much, actually. Most people would've kicked me out without a second thought.   
  
Dony slapped the hotdog down on the counter. I flipped him my money, and he caught it with ease. The smell of cooked meat wafted up, making my mouth water. I devoured the food in record time, scattering crumbs left and right. Hey, I'm a growing boy. At least, I think I'm still growing. I'm a good three inches shorter than most of the older newsies, and they'll never let me forget it. The way they acted, you'd think I was four feet tall. Yeah, but what I always say is that what I lack in height, I make up for in attitude.  
  
I sat on the stool and looked out at the horses. Hm, Number seven was looking good today. But it was Number two that would win, I'd bet. At least, I'd bet if I had money to spare. I lost most of it to Swifty, of all people. He was on a roll last night. I'm guessing I'm not the only one that's broke today, considering how Jack was complaining this morning. I'd get him back tonight, though. I grinned. No one beats Racetrack Higgins and stays rich for long.  
  
The gunshot sounded. And they're off, the horses sprinting down the lanes like all hell was behind them. Number four started out strong, almost too fast. He'd be wasted by the second lap. Number six was doing just the opposite, hanging back from the pack and waiting to pull ahead. But that's no guarentee, either. If you're not careful, you won't be able to catch up.   
  
It was clear after a few minutes who the real contenders were. Number seven was ahead, but barely. Number five was coming up behind him, and Number two was in between the two. The finish line neared, and the entire crowd held it's breath. Suddenly, Number two made a break for it, racing ahead at the last minute. And in seconds, it was all over. Number two took first amid the groans and cheers in the stands. I stood up and shouted with the rest of the crowd, caught up in the pumping adreniline.  
  
I love the track.  
  
I suppose I should, seeing as come here every day. I know it like the back of my hand, and could find my way around drunk, asleep, or with two black eyes-and I have, at some point. I stay here longer than I stay at the Lodging House, longer than I stayed at my house, my real house. I'm here all day, every day, in rain or shine. But I never get tired of it. The hoofbeats on the dusty ground, the smell of cigerettes and cheap beer, it all still holds the same sparkle, the same magic that grabbed me so many years ago.   
  
The possibility that anything could happen is what draws me here, the chance to make it big with only the money in your pocket. That, and that it reminds me of...him. The sounds of shouting and cheering, the rough games of chance and strength, they all bring back memories. Good memories, memories of simpler times, when everything was clear-cut, and good and bad were set stone. Memories of when I was younger, before black and white blended together into a million shades of grey. Before I had to be strong all the time, when I could allow someone else to take care of me.  
  
I shook my head. The real reason, the only reason, I come back here day after day is because of him. I keep thinking that behind that next corner, around the next bend, he'll be standing there waiting for me. He'll sweep me up in a tight bear hug, like he used to do when I was still a kid. He'd assure me that everything would be alright, and I could allow myself to believe him. Every head of shaggy hair, every loud, booming voice, and I'll turn and stare, looking for the familiar face.   
  
I still haven't found him. I might never find him. But I have to keep looking, keep searching. And God help me, if he ever comes back, I'll be waiting.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Specs-Musing on a Favorite Subject  
  
It was night already.   
  
Funny how the days seem to go by so fast sometimes, and so agonizingly slow other times. Most of the newsies were gathered around playing poker, joking and groaning and talking. I, however, was alone in a corner, trying to read. Or pretending to read. The book was one of my favorites, Romeo and Juliet. Poor, doomed children, they risked everything for love, for the fleeting romance of a single night. A pair of star-crossed lovers, as the story goes.  
  
I envy them.  
  
I envy their caring, thier passion and their willingness to die for each other. They gave up all they ever knew for love, for a love burning bright as a candle in the window. A light in the dark, a hope that they would alway have each other. I envy them, for I will never have him.  
  
I watch him over the binding of my book, praying he doesn't notice me. He's wrapped up in the poker game, laughing with a smile so sweet it breaks my heart. He looks down at his cards, making a face at what he sees. I can't help myself. I smile. Dutchy is the last person who should be playing poker. His emotions are written all over his face for anyone to see. All a person had to do was look in his eyes to know what he was feeling. Happiness, disappointment, mischief, I had seen them all.   
  
And anger. I had seen Dutchy angry. And it scared me.  
  
Anger always scares me. I've seen terrible things happen when rage takes over, seen it consume a person with a burning fire. Anger can control you, can possess you until your very being is destroyed. But when the madness passes, you always regret what you did, the things you said. You realize you may have destroyed your one chance at happiness, your one dream in life. All for the petty satisfaction of seeing someone cower before you, of wielding power over a person.   
  
But why am I scared for Dutchy when he's angry? Dutchy's never done something so horrible, so terrible that no one would forgive him. Something so bad that the only people he'd ever trusted would desert him. Dutchy would stop himself, control himself before he hurt someone.  
  
And that's why I love him.  
  
Love; I know it sounds crazy. He's my closest friend, my shoulder to cry on. He's suppported me through thick and thin, and trusted me with his life. He's told me about his past, about his wonderful mother who died when he was five. About his father abandoning him before he was born. I know him inside and out, better than I know anyone. And he knows nothing, absolutely nothing, about me.  
  
I'm afraid to tell him. What if he hates me? Well, I don't know if Dutchy would actually hate anyone. But he'd avoid me, make excuses not to be around me. He'd recoil at my touch with a barely concealed flinch. He'd tell me, calmly and quietly, that he was normal, he liked girls, but we could still be friends, right? And I would nod and smile. Of course, of course. And that would be the end of it. We'd slowly lose contact, and never speak to each other again.  
  
It would kill me.  
  
It's practically killing me right now. When all I can do put a hand on his shoulder, lean against his back. Pretend that I don't watch him constantly. Pretend that when Bumlets or Skittery touches him, the sour taste flooding my mouth isn't jealousy.   
  
Suddenly, someone sat down on beside me with a thud. "Heya Specs, watcha doin' over heah? The party's over dere!" I looked into Blink's grinning face.  
  
"Yeah, well Ise don' feel too much like partyin' right now," I replied, trying to hint at him to go away. I sighed. When Blink gets the bit between his teeth, he won't quit til he gets his way.  
  
"Aw, c'mon now, Specs. Youse bein' too quiet tonight! Ya need to lighten up and have some fun."  
  
"He's right, ya know," said someone else, sitting on the other side of me. Great, Blink had enlisted Jack's help. "Whatevah's in dat book can't possibly be more interestin' than tawking wit' your friends."  
  
"Please, guys, just leave me alone, okay?" I pleaded.   
  
Jack shot Blink an evil look, then they both turned back to me, grinning. My eyes widened. I was getting scared now.  
  
"Now Specs," Jack said sweetly, "If you ain't gonna rip yourself away from dis book, then will just have to rip da book away from you!"   
  
And with that, he snatched my book and sprinted away, yelling and whooping. I jumped up to start running after him, but Blink grabbed me and held me back.  
  
"Specs! C'mon, play wit' us! You'll have fun!," he insisted, trying not to laugh. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I'll even let you sit by Dutchy..."  
  
"What!!" I screeched. Oh God, please don't let Blink know. My life would officially be over.  
  
Jack came back empty-handed, looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary. "Well, Specs, I seem to have lost da book. I guess youse have no choice but to socialize!"  
  
I glared at them both. Damn them to the bowels of hell. They got on either side of me and frog-marched me to an empty place in the circle. I sat down and scowled at the rest of the newsies, to thier vast amusement. Blink sat back down next to Mush and shot me a smug look. True to his word, I was sitting next to Dutchy. He turned and gave me a sympathetic smile. My heart skipped a beat.  
  
Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad night after all.  
  
  
Closing Comments: Okay, so I couldn't resist picking on Specs. ::grins:: He just makes it so easy! Um, I have a request. If anyone finds any spelling errors, could you tell me? I'll fix 'em if you spot any. Thanks! 


	3. Midnight

Author's Notes: Third chapter is up! This one turned out a bit more angsty then I had originally intended. I guess Jacky-boy's just got some issues. ::pets Jack:: Anyway, no major warnings for this one, just tons of angst. I think I went a little overboard with his thoughts, I swear I wasn't intending on putting all this angst in. Hopefully, you can forgive me. Sorry about how short this is, too. More slash in this chapter, btw. I doubt there'll be many chapters without it ::taps fingers evilly::. As always, a HUGE thank you goes out to Sinhe, who actually got me to write the damn thing in the first place! ::gives madchan muffins:: And the reviewers!!! I'm madly in love with you all!!! ::dances:: Alrighty, enjoy!  
  
Jack-Golden Dreams  
  
I couldn't sleep.  
  
I'd been tossing and turning for hours now, willing myself to relax. I curled into a ball, wrapping the thin blanket around myself. It was getting colder. I could feel winter waiting, lurking in the shadows. And soon, too soon, it would pounce. It would encase this dirty city with ice, preserving the filth for the future generations. The grime would crystalize, turning the snow grey. Grey, the color of lost hope, the color of emptiness and regret.  
  
I'd have to start worrying about frostbite, about whether or not the kids could handle the cold. Sales would drop, because no one would want to be outside once the winter hit. Granted, Kloppman was a lot easier on us during the winter. He would let you in the first few times you couldn't make rent. But then the hunger sets in. If you can't pay rent, you definately can't buy food. And I would be forced to watch as all my closest friends waste away.   
  
Race, who was already as skinny as hell, would be a skeleton. And Mush, well, any food he gets he'll give half of it away. The bones in Dutchy's hands would become more and more pronounced. The hollows under Specs's eyes would grow deeper. Skittery would have to borrow someone else's clothes; his would be too big. Blink's face would grow thinner and thinner, and he'd force a horrible fake smile and laugh.   
  
And Spot. Oh, god, sometimes I thought Spot was the worst of all. He'd pretend that it didn't hurt him to watch the Brooklyn newsies, his newsies, face starvation. He'd put on a brave face and say that they were big boys and could take care of themselves. He'd act like he didn't feel responsible for them, that he didn't care if they faded away into shadows of their former selves. But deep inside, he would cry for them.   
  
It was the price of being the leader, the terrible mask we have to wear. Never hurting, never indecisive. Never doubting for a moment that you're doing the right thing. It was painful, all this pretending. I can't count how many times I've just wanted to scream 'Help me, I don't know what to do!', all the times I've wanted to shout and yell and curse the world.  
  
I think that's why Spot and I care so much about each other. I understand him, more so that almost anyone. And he understands me, understands me with such clarity and perception that it brings tears to my eyes. We take comfort in each other, in knowing that whatever is said between us ends there. I don't know how many times I've broken down and cried in his arms.  
  
And he's done the same with me. Once he came to me with pain etched across his delicate features, a haunted look in his eyes. He told me that one of his closest friends was killed, murdered in a fight on the docks. After they took the body away, there was a bloodstain on the wood. And no matter how much they scrubbed, the blood wouldn't go away. I held him while sobs racked his body, stroking his fine brown hair and whispering meaningless comforts in his ear.  
  
I love him. I love him more that I've ever loved anyone. He's always first, always the most important. His opinion is what matters to me. He holds my life in his hands, he keeps my soul in his heart. He owns me mind, body and everything in between.  
  
I rolled over, and my eyes drifted to the loose floorboard under Race's bed. My secret, the secret I keep from even Spot. I can't tell him, can't make him worry. He doesn't need to know that I still have it. He doesn't need to know that I still think about it late at night.  
  
The money Pulitizer gave me is hiding under that floor.  
  
Sometimes I swear I can hear it whispering. 'Jack, Jack. Santa Fe is waiting for you. It's not too late. You can leave this place, leave behind all the cares and worries of New York. You could run away, run away to an endless summer, to a sun that burns bright all year round. You could leave...if you dare...'  
  
No, I think, I would never desert my friends. They need me, they wouldn't know what to do if I left. I couldn't just leave everything I'd built here. I tried leaving once, but I couldn't do it. And Spot; I could never hurt Spot, even if I wanted to.  
  
But my thoughts are trecherous. A voice, small and faded, yet terrible persistant, tells me to go. It tells me that I was overestimating my importance. Maybe my newsies would get along just fine without me. Someone would take over if I left, and maybe they'd make a better leader. Maybe Santa Fe was my real home, the place I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, I cared about Spot more than he cared about me.  
  
I sternly told this voice to shut up. I was happy here, wasn't I? I had friends, family, a lover. Wasn't that was life was all about? And weren't there plenty of guys that would kill to be in my position? I was lucky, really. I had a good life, a life with flaws, sure, but a good life. I didn't need to run away from it.  
  
But the voice would not be silenced.  
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Closing Comments: Yay! Actual plot in the next chapter! These first few chapters have been more intro than anything else. The plots is looming. Brace yourself... 


	4. Angel of Revenge

Author's Notes: Well, my goal for the rest of this fic is to ramble as little as possible during the AN. ::blinks as various people cheer:: So the only thing I have to say is THANK YOU!!!! Thank you to the wonderful, fabulous, kind, loving reviewers, (especially Stage, Dizzy, and Ann Valentine, who have been patiently reviewing every chapter. You guys rock my world!) and to my lovely, talented beta and friend Sinhe!! Without her, this would've never gotten off the ground. Okay, onward to the fic!  
  
Bumlets-Late Night Poker  
  
Night had fallen. the other newsies were lounging about the Lodging House, cracking jokes and teasing each other. Dutchy was sitting on his bed sketching on a spare piece of paper. Specs was shuffling a pack of cards, getting ready for a game of Blackjack. Blink and Mush were sitting in a corner, laughing at some private joke. Swifty was teaching Jack how to do the Cat's Cradle with a spare bootlace. All of them happy, all of them content.  
  
I paced around the room restlessly. I was still full of energy, still dangerously awake. I got like this sometimes, had a hard time settling down when most people were tired. I couldn't calm down, couldn't force myself to sit still.  
  
"Oi, Bumlets, wouldja stop walkin' around? Youse makin' me dizzy," Skittery said.  
  
"Yeah, Ise gettin' sick from just watchin' ya," Blink agreed.  
  
"Siddown and tawk to us or somethin', just quit moving'," Dutchy chimed in, flicking a ball of paper at me as I passed.  
  
I pointedly ignored the three of them and turned to Swifty.  
  
"Ise gonna go for a walk. You wanna come with?"  
  
The Asian boy made a face. "Naw, I can't. I promised Race I'd give 'im a rematch tonight."  
  
Jack spoke up from behind the bed. "Ehy, if youse lookin' for somethin' ta do, I heard dere's gonna be a big poker game down in Brooklyn tonight."  
  
I smiled. A walk to Spot's place for a game of cards. That sounded perfect. "T'anks, Jack. I might just do dat."  
  
I stayed long enough to grab my hat and the money stashed under my bed. Kloppman warned me not to stay out too late as I ran past him, then I was out the door.  
  
I shivered as I stepped outside. There was a chill to the air, a bite that wasn't there a month ago. It would be a bad winter if it was already this cold in November. I grimaced. I hate the winter. So much ice and snow, it made me uncomfortable just thinking about it.  
  
I started walking at a brisk pace, partly to get there quicker, and partly to ward away the chill. The buildings cast shadows on the ground, hiding the broken glass and burnt cigerettes. The wind whistled through the city like a lost soul, whispering of forgotten hearts and nights long past. It was a lonely sound, a bitter sound. A sound that made me want to be home. I started walking faster.  
  
The Brooklyn Bridge came into view, a monster of steel and iron. A monster chained, a monster forced to aid humanity. The passage was empty this late at night, the normal bustle of traffic silenced by the heavy veil of night. The water underneath was as dark as eternity unforgiven.   
  
Finally, I saw a light up ahead. The Brooklyn Lodging House was a block away. I jogged the rest of the way there, the stillness of the night making me nervous. I walked in, nodding a greeting to the old man who ran the Lodging House. I walked up the stairs and into the main room, glad to be out of the darkness.  
  
A chorus of greeting hailed me as I walked in. I knew most of Spot's newsies, was friends with a lot of them. They were a good bunch, once you got to know them.   
  
"Heya, Bumlets! Watcha doin' all da way down here?" Pod asked, a blonde, bright-eyed boy.  
  
I gave his shoulder a light puch. "I heard dere was a killah game down here tonight! 'Sides, I haven't seen you fellas in a while."  
  
Pod grinned and slapped my back. "Glad to see ya."  
  
I felt someone shove up against me, nearly pushing me over. "Oh, oops, sorry 'bout dat," the someone said, sarcasm so thick you could taste it.  
  
"Oh, hey Coal," I said warily, looking up at the taller newsie. Coal was a giant of a person, towering over me and almost everyone else. He had a ridiculously thick neck, and his eyes were set back in his face. I never liked him much, and he makes no secret of the fact that he doesn't like me. I don't know why, honestly. I never did anything to him. But every time I see him, he and his cronies would give me a hard time.   
  
"Ehy, ease up, Coal. He's just here ta play," Johnny spoke up, sensing the tension in the room. Johnny was Spot's right hand, the person who played leader when Spot was away. He had dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and a ghostly pale complexion. He looked like the type who could fight his way out of any scrape he got himself into. Truth, he intimidated me a little.   
  
Coal glared at me sullenly, but held his peace. I shot Johnny a look of gratitude. The last thing I needed was to get into a brawl with someone a foot taller than me.  
  
"Well, well, well, who have we heah?"  
  
I turned around with a big smile on my face.   
  
"Now, who else would come to your house in da middle o' da night? Wait, on second t'ought, don' answer dat."  
  
Spot came up and clapped me on the back.   
  
"Good to see ya, pal. Good to see ya. Youse ready to get your ass kicked tonight?"  
  
I laughed. Spot never changed. "We'll just see about dat."  
  
Two hours and many hands later, I had nearly all the Brooklyn newsies complaining.   
  
"How is it dat youse ended up wit' all da money? I was shoa dat I'd beat you!" Pod asked, mock angry.  
  
I grinned. "If youse t'ink I'm bad, you should play against Racetrack Higgings! He'll leave ya wit' not'ing but da clothes on your back." And sometimes not even that, I thought, remembering that ill-fated game of strip poker a few months ago. I shuddered inwardly. Who knew Specs had black underware?  
  
I reached over and collected my winnings, amid the groaning of everyone else. Even Spot had lost some money to me.   
  
"Well boys, it's been a pleasure seein' youse tonight."  
  
"And tonight's the last night you'll be comin' over, if youse keep playin' like dat." Coal said darkly. I think I busted him. Apparently he wasn't used to losing.  
  
I ignored him and said goodbye to the rest of the Brooklyn crew. Most of them waved cheerfully as I left, and I walked out the door with a smile on my face.   
  
It had been nice to see some new people. Don't get me wrong, the guys I live with are great, it's just that sometimes they got on my nerves. One of the problems with being a newsie is the constant companionship. I hardly ever got a minute to myself, or even a chance to work alone. Most of the time I could shrug it off, but today it had been getting to me.  
  
I started walking back quickly, the money jangling in my pocket like a sweet music. I grinned. I hardly ever won this much in a single game. I usually pulled even; not like poor Dutchy, who couldn't play a decent game of poker to save his life. Race and Jack were the main contenders of our little group, and Blink could wipe someone out if he put his mind to it. Swifty was the real surprise last night. The look on Race's face when our quiet little Swifty had nearly all his money was priceless.   
  
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't notice the person behind me til it was too late. A hard shove smacked me to a wall, and my head hit the bricks with a crack. A fist came flying out of nowhere and belted me across the face. Another puch was landed in my stomach, knocking the air out of me.   
  
Coal's squat face leered at me from the darkness. "So, pretty boy, who's the winner now, eh?"  
  
I was furious. This guy attacked me for beating him in poker. Poker! I couldn't believe it. I tried to reach up to fight back, but someone came out and pinned my arms to my side. One of Coal's friends, I couldn't remember his name, had grabbed me and was holding me still. Another one reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.  
  
Coal punched me in the mouth, and the metallic flavor of blood filled my mouth. I crumpled this time, and the cronies let me fall. I was kicked hard in the back, and I felt the skin break. I was trying not to cry, trying to ignore the pain. It hurt, oh god, it hurt. He hit me again...and again...I lost count, drowning in a dark sea of agony.   
  
Finally, mercifully, I blacked out.  
  
**********  
  
"Bumlets, Bumlets, wake up. Come on buddy, wake up."  
  
I heard someone speaking, calling my name. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Snoddy's worried face stared down at me.  
  
"Hey, hey fellas! He's awake!"  
  
The other newsies crowded around, assuring themselves that I was okay. Which, of course, I wasn't.  
  
I tried to shift me weight, but shooting pains up my back made me change my mind.  
  
"Don't try to move," Specs said, noticing my wince, "Youse got some pretty serious cuts and bruises, but no broken bones. It'll take a few days for the pain ta go away."  
  
I blinked slowly. "Where am I?"  
  
"Well, when youse didn't come back, we all started ta get worried," Jack said, placing his hand lightly on my shoulder. "Me and a couple o' the guys went out ta look for you. It was Shadow* that found ya, poor kid. He got pretty shaken up when he found ya lying in the back of an alley."  
  
"How's he doin?" I asked. Shadow was a cute kid, I didn't want him upset.  
  
"He'll be fine. Race's tawking to 'im now. You just worry 'bout yourself, okay?"  
  
I smiled. Jack had a tendency to get mother-henish when someone got hurt. "Shoah, Jack. I'll be fine."  
  
"Bumlets, what happened?" Dutchy asked quietly after Jack left.   
  
"Yeah, what did you do ta yoursef?" Skittery asked, with a trace of old sarcastic humor.  
  
I started to shrug, but then thought better of it. "Coupla guys jumped me for beatin' dem at poker after I left Spot's place. Not a big deal."  
  
Blink leaned over and asked me, in an unusually serious tone, "Who did dis to you?"  
  
"Um, Coal. Coal and a few of his friends," I answered without thinking. "Wait, why do you wanna know?"  
  
Blink stood up, the shadows on his face making him look like a dark angel.   
  
"I t'ink Ise gonna go have a tawk with dis Coal," he said softly. Too softly.  
  
"Blink, don't be an idiot," I said, expasperated. "Coal's a head and a half taller dan you. He'd beat youse inta da ground."  
  
The one-eyed boy merely smiled. It was a dangerous smile, a smile that made you back away.  
  
He was out the door before anyone could stop him. I looked around desperately for Mush. I gestured him over.  
  
"Mush, go wit' 'im."  
  
Mush looked surprised. "Me? Why?"  
  
I sighed. "Because you're the only one he'll listen to. Just stop 'im before he gets himself killed."  
  
He looked at me searchingly for a moment, then nodded. Good, that was taken care of. I knew if anyone could calm Blink down, it would be Mush.   
  
Now, maybe, I could get some sleep.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________  
  
*Shadow doesn't actually have a name, but he's the kid who's always next to Bumlets during the dances (Bumlet's shadow; Shadow, get it?). You get a good shot of him during the chorale version of Seize the Day. He's right beside Bum-chan. The name belongs to Sinhe. I just had to put him in here, he's so adorable!  
  
Closing Comments: Ack, I have a plot, and the first thing I do is beat up Bumlets! I'm sorry, honey ::pats Bumlets on the head:: And wow, I actually made up characters! ::is surprised:: I actually like Pod alot..::huggles Pod:: Okay, next up: Mush's POV! 


	5. Understanding

Author's Notes: Well, I have one extra warning for this chapter. We've already established that this is slash, but now we get sex (which I'm sure will please some of you ^_^). Nothing too explicit, but if this squicks you, skip the last part. And Sinhe!!! You get more muffins for your help!! (You'll have a roomful by the time this is done, dahling) ONWARD!!!!! ::gestures wildly::  
  
Mush-Footsteps  
  
I walked quickly down the deserted street. My footsteps echoed eerily in the quiet, breaking the silence of the night. I hurried through darkened alleyways and twisted shadows, listening for another set of footsteps. For the angry, vengeful steps of my best friend.  
  
He was out here somewhere, wandering the maze of New York in search of justice. Not the kind with courtrooms and judges and lawyers. This was the street justice, the blood justice. The justice that we answered to. He was searching for the abusers, so he could further the vicious cycle. He was what the street trash must answer to. He was thier dark angel, was thier reason to fear the shadows.  
  
I'd never seen him like this, never seen him consumed with a cold rage. Normally when Blink got mad, he shouted, he cursed, he yelled until something was fixed. He had a short temper, but he always burned out in a day or so. He never stayed angry. But tonight...oh god, tonight he was furious.   
  
He was quiet. That's what scared me the most. Blink was hardly ever quiet. He was always talking, always moving and laughing. Even if it meant getting in trouble or getting himself hurt, he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. To most people, he must seem to have an inexhaustable source of energy, like he never needed to sleep. But I knew better.  
  
I knew Blink was afraid of the silence.  
  
He was afraid to let someone near him, afraid to show what he was really feeling. I've known him since I was ten, and he's never once acted like he was sad. During the strike, when we all thought Jack had betrayed us, he never cried, he never showed how much it had hurt him. That's always the way he's been. Pretending to be angry when he was scared, pretending to be happy when he was sad. He was always pretending.   
  
And I pretended that I couldn't see right through him.  
  
Of course, he though he was fooling everyone. He thought no one else saw the slight shadow in his face, the tinge of bitterness to his smile. Maybe no one else really noticed. But I did. And it tore at my heart.  
  
I hated to see him forcing himself to be happy. I hated watching him plaster a grin on his face. I wanted to shake him and tell him how much he meant to everyone. I wanted to hold him until he broke down and cried in my arms. I wanted to rip off his smiling mask and see what was underneath. If there was anything at all.  
  
I sometimes wonder what happened to him. I wonder where he lived before he became a newsie, before he had his eyepatch. I wonder what his family was like, if he even remembered them. I wonder who made him think he had to hide behind a jester's smile.   
  
A sudden sound jerked me back to reality. I was at the back of Medda's place. A shadow was walking away from me. A familiar shadow.  
  
"Blink?" I called out uncertianly.   
  
The shape whirled around. It was dark, but I knew his face even at midnight in deserted alley.  
  
"Mush. Whadda ya doin' heah?" he asked, stepping toward me.  
  
"I-Ise came ta make shoah youse didn't get hurt," I replied, not wanting to say that Bumlets sent me.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Mush, Ise can take care o' myself, aright? I don't need a babysittah."  
  
"Blink, youse stormed outta the Lodgin' House like you was gonna kill somebody!" I said, not in the mood for his games. "An' not just one guy, but t'ree! An' all by yourself? Youse coulda gotten hurt worse dan Bumlets!"  
  
He snorted. "Lis'en. I'll be fine, okay? I promise I won't get myself inta any moah trouble dan usual," he said, trying to push past me.  
  
I stood my ground. "Don't make me promises ya can't keep, Blink. Youse gonna go take on t'ree people that're taller dan you, stronger dan you, and way more mean. Don't kid yourself inta t'inkin' you can handle it."  
  
He stopped for a minute, taken aback at my sharp response. Then his expression shifted from surprise to anger. "Look Mush, I can't just let goons like dat push my friends around, okay? They ain't got no right. And if no one else's gonna make 'em pay, den I will. So get outta my way." He started to go around me, but I pushed him up against the wall.  
  
"I'm not gonna let youse do dis," I said, my face an inch from his. "I aready got one friend beat so bad 'e can't walk. The last t'ing I need is another friend gettin' soaked."  
  
He struggled. "Mush, lemme go!" He tried to squirm away, but I held him firm.  
  
"Blink, Ise not gonna let you get yourself hurt. Don't youse get it?" I asked him, my voice softening. "I care about youse too much for dat."  
  
He stilled, and looked up at me. "What?"  
  
"I care about youse," I said quietly. "I don't want you ta get hurt."  
  
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, surprised that he needed reassurance. Didn't he know how much he meant to me?  
  
"I-I care about you, too," he said, looking me in the eye.  
  
I suddenly realized how close we were. My hands were still on his shoulders, the fabric of our shirts brushing together. We were so close our breath was mingling. Slowly, I drew my face to his. Just as slowly, he was moving closer to me. Before I had time to think, I was kissing him. Or he was kissing me.  
  
He opened his mouth, and our tounges tangled. He tasted like woodsmoke and summer. My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, pulling him closer. I heard him groan low in his throat. He reached up and twined his fingers through my hair, holding my head in place. His other hand reached under my shirt and traced patterns on my skin.   
  
A shiver of pleasure ran up my spine. I gripped the small of his back, and he growled again. I decided I liked having this effect on him. He bit my lip hard, and I shuddered. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He kissed his way down my neck, leaving a trail of bite marks. I started to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.  
  
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. I jerked away, alarmed.  
  
Blink looked up at me. His lips shined wetly in the dark, and his good eye was half-closed with passion.   
  
"Blink, what're we doing?"   
  
"I-I don't know," he answered in a husky voice. "It just-felt right."  
  
"But, we're both, I mean, isn't this...wrong?"  
  
"Did you like it?" he asked me quietly.   
  
I remembered what I had been doing a few seconds ago. "Yeah, I liked it."  
  
He smiled. A genuine smile. "Well den, it can't be dat bad, can it?"  
  
I looked at him, suddenly nervous. "Blink, I've never-I mean, not even with a girl..."  
  
He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, "I'll show you. If you want me to."  
  
I shivered when I felt his lips brush my ear. My answer, while not verbal, was a definate affirmative.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Closing Comments: Yep, I chickened out at that last part. Sorry, anything more intense and I would set my computer on fire, I would be blushing so hard. Suffice to say that there was sex backstage at Medda's. Hope you enjoyed it, short as it was. Next up: Race's POV! 


	6. Reunions

Pre-Author's Notes (humor the crazy lady, please…): well, I've had this chapter on my computer for awhile, but forgot to post it!! *dies from embarrassment* hopefully I'll be able to start this fic up again. Cheers!!  
  
Author's Notes: Yep, sixth chapter. Geez, this baby it getting long! Um, one announcement. Updates will prolly be coming in slower now. I got into my school winter production, and I'm teching for the fall show. This means I have rehearsal afterschool and set building on the weekends (woohoo! fun with power tools...^_^). I actually have a plot for the entire fic, so it won't shrivel up and die, it'll just might get a little stale for a while. Also, since I love all my reviewers to pieces, I've succumbed to shout-outs. ::shakes head:: But they're doubling as a chance to prod other people into writing more of their stuff. Hee hee, evil me. And, as always, a thousand thank-yous go out to Sinhe. I love you, honey!!   
  
Caroline Gottschalk Jackson~ Wohoo, a slash newbie!! Enjoy it dear, it'll take over your life. Lord knows it's taken over mine. ^_^  
  
Sinhe~ ::massive glomp:: seeeeeeeex!!!!!!! You must bow to the almighty seeeeeeeex!!!!!! Now once you read this, go write more Foundations and The Sweetest Wine. Quickly, go, go!! ::pokes with plastic spork:: And thanks for the jewish desserts!!  
  
Ann Valentine~ ::grins:: Your reviews always crack me up. Gah, Deep Water? More? Please? Grrr, last chapter was a cliff-hanger...  
  
Stage~ ::waves flag with Stage, then turns to poke her with it:: Dammit, I need more Malevolent Sins!! Write!! I command you!!  
  
Blinks-Tiger~ ^_^ T'anks!!  
  
Snape No Kobito~ ::tacklelatchglomp:: yay!! I loved your long reviews hon, they made me feel so special!! ::beams:: Now, where's Cowboy's Bad Idea? I neeeeed my humor!!!!  
  
Dizzy~ Yum, Specs in black underware. Keep the vision as long as you like! And write more little ficlets, they make me so happy!!  
  
Akkira~ XD Gracias!  
  
Liss~ ::giggles:: rhyming words are fun...  
  
FictionHobbit~ ::pets:: Erm, it wasn't soon, but here it is anyway.  
   
Chapter Six-Discoveries  
"Boys! Would you get up aready?"  
  
Kloppman's voice jerked me awake. I cracked my eyes open and saw the old man bent over Swifty, shaking him. The Asian boy muttered and burrowed deeper under the blanket, pointedly ignoring him.  
  
I looked blearily around the room. Almost everyone else was already moving around. Granted, they weren't actually awake, but at least they were up. I groaned and sat up. I hate getting out of bed in the morning.  
  
I rubbed my eyes and walked to the bathroom, stifling a yawn with one hand. Ignoring the general chaos of the morning rush, I splashed some water on my face. Let me tell you something, cold water wakes you up every time.  
  
"G'mornin', Race," someone said, appallingly cheerful this early in the morning. I turned around and saw Blink with a funny half-smile on his face. I gave him an odd look.  
  
"What're you so 'appy about?" I asked grumpily.  
  
"Oh nothin', nothin' at all," he practially sang.   
  
Okay, something was definately up. Blink was never this happy in the morning. Suddenly, I remembered he hadn't come back til real late last night.  
  
"So Blink, where was youse last night?"   
  
His expression quickly shifted from dreamy to guilty. "Uh, nowhere. I just, uh, came back late, dat's all."  
  
"Well, Ise figured dat," I said patiently. "Ise mean where was youse before ya came back."  
  
"Yeah, where'd ya go?" Jack said, coming up behind the one-eyed blonde.  
  
Blink squirmed under the pressure, fiddling with sleeve. "Er-I mean-I just-"  
  
"Wait a minute," Jack said, twirling Blink around and peering into his face. "Youse got laid!" he accused.  
  
Blink's good eye widened. "Wha-?"  
  
Jack huffed. "Oh, don' try an' deny it! It's written all ovah ya. Youse was hummin' dis mornin', for god's sake!"  
  
"So, who's the lucky goil?" I asked, elbowing him. I can't believe he didn't tell me he was seeing somone!  
  
"Well-ya see-me and-and-" Blink stuttered.  
  
"Hey fellas," someone said, saving Blink from having to answer.  
  
"Mornin' Mush," Jack said, grinning evilly. "So, do you know where our boy heah was last night?"  
  
"Wha-wha-what?" Mush stuttered, his cheeks turning pink.  
  
I looked back and forth between Mush and Blink. Why was the poor boy blushing so hard? Suddenly, I put two and two together.   
  
"Mush!!" I practically yelled. "Did you have sex with Blink?!"  
  
The curly-haired boy suddenly seemed to find the floor riveting. That and Blink's guilty grin said it all. I threw up my hands, disgusted. Why were all my roommates gay?  
  
"Well, since dey aready know, I guess wese should play it up," I heard Blink mutter to Mush. He grabbed his new lover and bent him back in a long, romantic kiss.  
  
The other newsies looked stunned for a minute, as if someone had run around and hit every one of them on the back of the head with a board. Jack's jaw was glued to the floor. But the silence soon erupted into whistles and cheers, egging the pair on.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Some people would do anything for attention.  
  
I walked back to finish getting dressed, shaking my head. I should have seen it coming, really. I mean, Blink flirted with Mush all the time. I was hoping, praying, that they wouldn't get more explicit now that the relationship was out in the open. I didn't know how much of that I could take. Snoddy and Skittery weren't all that bad, but both of them were shy. And Jack and Spot, well, half of that occured in Brooklyn.  
  
I sighed. Well, at least now the competition for the dolls had dropped.  
  
"Heya Race," someone croaked from behind me.  
  
I turned around. "Bumlets! How ya feelin' buddy?" I asked, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  
  
He attempted to shrug. "Eh, Ise feelin' bettah dan I felt last night," he lied. The slight grimace gave him away. Besides, I knew from experience it hurt worse on the morning after. That's when you realize how hard you really got hit.  
  
"Youse not sellin' today, are ya?" I asked suspiciously. Bumlets could be so stubborn about being sick. He'd insist that he was fine, then end up hurting himself worse.  
  
He tried to grin. "Nah, Kloppman said he'd 'ave to strap me down if I tried to get up foah anudda week or so."  
  
I nodded in approval. "Well good. Youse just sit tight and we'll be back befoah ya know it."  
  
"Yeah. I might just take a nap or somet'in', maybe borrow a book from Specs," he said. "So, what's all da commotion about ovah dere? I heard a lot o' noise. I mean, more so dan da usual."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Youse really wanna know?"  
  
"It can't be dat bad," he chuckled.  
  
"Well, we just found out dat Blink and Mush are now more dan 'just friends.' Blink just kissed 'im."  
  
I was expecting him to looked shocked or surprised, or even a little disturbed. But instead, he broke out into a huge grin. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "Finally? It shoah took dem long enough!"  
  
My jaw dropped. "Wait, you knew about dis?"  
  
"Knew about it? I practially had to set dem up!"  
  
I covered my eyes with my hand. "I ain't hearin' dis, I ain't hearin' dis..."  
  
"Ehy, can you honestly say dat you never once suspected? Come on, Race, youse ain't stupid."  
  
"Just 'cause I suspected don't mean I actually t'ought it was true!"  
  
Bumlets looked at me with his dark eyes, the grin gone from his face. "Does it bother youse?"  
  
I shook my head and sighed. "Nah, it don't bother me. I've always had a soft spot for dose two, anyway. I guess if it makes dem happy, who am I ta say it's wrong?"  
  
Bumlets smiled. "I'm glad. I always t'ought da same thing. Now, if youse don't get outta here, you'll be late. Go on, Ise tired o' lookin' at ya," he said playfully, shooing me out the door.  
  
I walked out of the Lodging House with the rest of the newsies. I let the chatter and noise wash over me, barely acknowledging it when someone spoke to me.   
  
I guess Blink and Mush's display of affection had bothered me more than I thought. I wanted them to be happy, I really did. And I had no problem with Skittery and Snoddy. But then again, they don't flaunt it. They barely hold hands in public. Even in the Lodging House, all they do is touch each other lightly, or cuddle a little. It wouldn't be that hard to pretend they're only friends.   
  
Blink and Mush, however, won't keep it quiet. It'll be impossible to ignore now that I have two male friends that want to be together. I'll have to face facts, to decide how I really feel about this. It's one thing to agree with something in the abstract sense, but it's quite another to see it happeneing right in front of you.   
  
I hitched a ride to the track, still lost in thought. I sold almost automatically, letting my mouth do the work. I wasn't paying attention to the people I sold to, wasn't half-looking for familiar faces like I usually do. Instead, I let my customers blur together, indistinguishable from each other. That's why I didn't hear it at first.  
  
"Issac?"   
  
That name snapped me back to reality. I whipped my head around, looking for whoever said that name. I hadn't heard it in ages, painful memeories blocking it out. I hadn't heard it since I was a child, since I was left at the orphanage. It reminded me of home, of innocence lost. It was a special name, a child name.   
  
My name.  
  
"Issac! My God, it is really you?"  
  
A man was running toward me, arms outstretched. He grabbed me tight in a hug, squeezing me like he'd never let go. His coat smelled like whiskey and horses, like a man who'd lost his life only to gather up the pieces years later. He had a beard, thick and scratchy. His hands were big and rough, callused from years of hard work.  
  
I pulled away from him, hardly daring to hope. I reached out to touch his smiling face, my fingers brushing the scar that traced from his ear to his cheekbone. His face began to blur, hot tears filling my eyes and spilling down me cheeks.   
  
It was my father. He had finally come back to me.  
  
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Closing Comments~ ::insert dramatic music here:: 


	7. Shades of Grey

Author's Notes: Yay!! I'm still alive!! (Thanks to Madchan and Stage, btw, for checking.^_^) Well, finals are finally over for me, so now I should be able to continue writing this baby. Keep in mind, however, that technically I'm not allowed on this site (my parents are crazy, I know), so updates prolly won't be instantaneous. Thanks to the lovely reviews, you all are frickin' amazing!! This chapter is more of a tidbit than anything. It might take a little while for me to get back in my writing mode, so be patient if this one isn't as long or as well-done as the other ones. Enjoy!  
  
Dutchy-My love  
  
The bunkhouse was quiet. The other boys had all gone to sleep long ago, tired from a hard day's work. I was the only one still awake, the only one still up to see the late autumn moon that hung heavy in the velvet sky. I sat by the window with my tattered paper and pencil, sketching the city's shadows. They city was beautiful during the night, when the lights were extinguished and the windows were closed. The darkness shrouded the streets, draping the city in mystery. I could feel the loneliness and heartbreak, could taste the sorrow that was hiding inside sleeping hearts.  
  
I turned away from the window. The pale moonlight streamed into the room, bringing the dirt on the floor into stark relief. The light fell upon the faces of tired boys, boys who laughed in the face of hardship and pain, and who fought to keep what small bit of happiness they had. During the day they all seemed so hard, so jaded by life's harsh realities. But now, I realized how young they really were. Children, really. They were just children.  
  
They all slept peacefully; content to give up their daily troubles for the night. I, however, was not so lucky. I couldn't make myself stop thinking about what haunted my thoughts at every moment, sleeping or awake. Perhaps I should say not what, but who.  
  
I can see him from my perch, his face resting on a rumpled pillow. His high cheekbones and curly brown hair, delicate face and gentle hands; he was so handsome, and he didn't know it. I think that's one of the reasons I found Specs so wonderful-he had an unconscious beauty, walked with an unconscious grace.  
  
He has no idea how many times I've tried to capture that beauty on paper. He doesn't know of the endless sketches I have hidden in my mattress, the countless drawings of his profile and silhouette. But still I could not find a copy worth saving. The little details were always off; the eyes too happy, the mouth too immature. With every other subject I've drawn, I've managed to create a likeness within a few drafts. But something about him always eluded me.  
  
I stared at my dirty piece of paper with disgust. Sometimes its blank surface was comforting, a reminder that I could make something beautiful out of nothing. Sometimes I could express my deepest emotion, my most precious feelings with a mere pencil and paper.  
  
But tonight, it was disheartening. Try to change me, turn me into something you worth keeping, it seemed to be saying. Try to replace unrequited love with pencil shavings and lead smudges. And it was true. I was trying to stave off loneliness the only way I knew how.  
  
Night after night I strove fill the void in my soul, the emptiness where I know he should be. I try to fill that void with friends, with laughter, with my art. But deep in my heart, where it really counts, I was still alone. So achingly alone.  
  
I closed my eyes, letting the tears slip through my lashes. I cried the tears of love unanswered, of people grown cold with longing. My tears fell for the millions who died alone. My tears fell for children old beyond their years, for lovers who never got to say goodbye. But in the end, I knew I was crying for him. My life, my love. My Specs.  
  
My tears splashed on the half drawn city skyline. The lead began to run, rivers of hopeless grey. That's how I survived now. I lived, breathed, and wept in shades of grey.  
  
Closing Comments~ I promise the next chapter will be longer, I just had to get this one out. Sort of my treat for getting a B in Chemistry. Um.I'm not sure what's next.I'm thinking of adding more stuff to my original plot, so things will get shifted around a bit from what I first thought. Shout-outs next chapter, too. Happy summer!!! 


	8. Stone Angel

Author's Notes: Woo!! A visit to Sinhe's house for a week has rekindled my love for newsies! And the drive to finish this fic. Mwahahahaha.Enjoy all the slashiness. And since I'm madly in love with all my reviewers, it's Shout-Out time!! I'm just doing these based on the reviews I got from chap 6 and 7. Woo!! (Pie Eater is the newsie of the day, btw.^_^)  
  
Shout-Outs~  
  
Merlin's Quill: Yay! You get bonus points for the word 'bloody.' ^_^  
  
Fyre Eye: *sighs happily* I luuurve Mush/Blink as well.  
  
Lee8: *bounces* I LOVE thin mints!!!  
  
Stage: *grins* You rock my socks, you know that? And unfortunately, this fic is not gonna be too fluffy for Specs and Dutchy. Although, I was thinking of doing an Into the Woods parody with Dutchy as Cinderella.o.O  
  
Sinhe: Dahling, this chappie is dedicated to you, since I wouldn't have written it if I hadn't been prodded into it. *MASSIVE, FLYING TACKLE* You're Hott and Seksah!!!!!!!!!  
  
Crunch: You like Skittery/Snoddy too?! *flying tackle* You're my person of the day.  
  
Caroline: *evil cackle* YOU HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!!!!!! Slash is good, slash is godlike.  
  
Artemis: If you like Race, this is a good story for you to read. He's featured quite a bit. ^_~  
  
Omni: ^_^_^_^_^_^_^ Your reviews make me sooo happy! *Carmen Maria hearts Omni*  
  
kellyanne: yay!! Another slash newbie!! Trust me, it'll consume your life. My word for you is ADIDAS. (All Day I Dream About Slash)  
  
Stardust: Ugh, I never get updates out soon. But here it is anyway, sweetie.  
  
Spot-Alone  
  
I walked quickly down the street, my footsteps echoing hollowly on the cobbled surface. The sky was heavy and overcast, obscuring the pale winter sunlight. Manhattan was cold today, and quiet. It felt like an old watercolor picture, with the beauty slowly dying. The usual clang and clamor of the city was gone, replaced by the gentle murmur of hundreds of whispers. People bustled around me, smears of faded paint. Even my shadow was lost to me, washed out in the all-encompassing grayness. Today that smudge of darkness would have been some comfort to me, some relief from this colorless landscape.  
  
I was nearing the Brooklyn Bridge, my lifeline to this place. Sometimes I wondered why I came here at all. It wasn't my home; the people who lived here were strangers. And the newsies-well, they were practically strangers. They only knew as much as I let them know. Spot Conlon, the fierce Brooklyn leader. Hardened into jade, completely without feeling or pity. They thought they knew me, but they were blind.  
  
Except for one. That one, he knows everything. And I'm beginning to think he doesn't care.  
  
I shivered as the wind knifed through my thin shirt. The bony fingers of winter were already beginning to tighten, to strangle me with the cold and loneliness. I closed my eyes against the chilling gusts. I didn't want to see the snow that was starting to fall, didn't want to bear witness to the ice that was about to descend. But if I closed my thoughts against the oncoming freeze, then I couldn't keep myself from thinking about something else.  
  
Jack was drifting away from me.  
  
He thinks I don't know. He thinks I don't notice when his laughter turns hollow, when his eyes stare past me at something only he can see. He's always been a bit restless, but now it's as if he can't sit still, as if he's afraid he'll turn to stone if he stays in one place. A stone angel, an idol for children grown up too fast.  
  
Maybe it's just the winter. It's hard for everyone, the burning cold and fiery freeze. Hunger twisting your insides so hard you think you'll never breathe again. The nights of despair, when you lie awake in your bed wondering if a life like this is better than dying. Wondering if you'll survive the season, wondering what in god's name did you do to deserve this.  
  
Wondering if god is even out there. Does god listen to the prayers of street children? Surely not. No one else does.  
  
Buy why, if he's feeling this depth of sorrow, wouldn't he tell me? Why wouldn't be tell me, in his warm, lovely voice, that he was hurting? I thought I had managed to slip past his defenses, slip past his mask toughened by years of living alone. He knows whatever he tells me stays with me. Why then is he hiding?  
  
I don't know if it's just me, or if he was like this with everyone. I thought of him unburdening himself to others, of Blink or Dutchy comforting him in his sorrow, and felt the sour taste of jealousy flood my mouth. No, it couldn't be. If he was closed off with me, surely he was more so with them. They didn't understand him as I did, didn't love him so much it filled every part of them.  
  
Besides, I know he cares for me more than anything. He promised me that, when we lay tangled together in his bed, the hot summer air settling down around us. He promised me that the first time we made love, the first time we held each other so close I could feel his heart beating next to mine. He promised me.  
  
"Hey Spot! Wheah ya going, buddy?"  
  
The sudden shout brought me out of my reverie, dragged me back from bittersweet memories. I kept my head down and kept walking. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, wasn't in the mood to play my part. But I heard the footsteps speed up, determined to confront me. I sighed and turned around.  
  
"Race!" I said, surprised. I wasn't expecting him. "Ise didn't see ya dere. How's it goin'?"  
  
The shorter boy grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. "Not too bad, Spotsy. Not too bad."  
  
I grimaced at the hated nickname. Miming a punch, I couldn't help but laugh as he pulled off an acrobatic dodge. "Race, if youse wasn't such a damn good sellah, I'd've killed ya a long time ago."  
  
"Eh, join da club. I'll have ya know dere's a long line of people who wanna kill me," he said airily, a grin still on his face.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? An' why haven't dey killed ya yet?"  
  
"What?!" Race said in mock indignation, clapping his hands to his heart. "Kill a beauty such as myself? It'd be a crime!"  
  
I chuckled. He was certainly in a good mood. I've rarely seen him so genuinely happy. Normally his humor consisted of putting either himself or an enemy down. But today, he seemed almost joyful, the cynicism that usually turned his smiles bitter completely absent. His cheer was infectious, and I couldn't help feeling a tiny bit better.  
  
"So whadda youse so 'appy about, ya bum?" I asked, curious.  
  
Something flickered in his eyes. A secret, perhaps? Well, that'd be no surprise. There isn't a newsie out here that doesn't have a skeleton in the closet. But why would he hide something that made him so happy? Today was apparently the day for questions.  
  
But in a moment, the shadow was gone. "'Ehy, ain't a guy allowed to be 'appy?" he said, still with a grin on his face. "It's beddah dan bein' down in da dumps," he concluded, with a shrewd glance in my direction.  
  
I pointedly ignored that last statement. "Shoah youse allowed ta be in a good mood, Race. Well, I'll see ya around," I finished quickly and started to walk away.  
  
I could feel his eyes on me as I turned my back to him. I'm sure he was still looking at me with that appraising, knowing look. Oh yes, Racetrack Higgins knew that something wasn't right.  
  
Damn those nosey Italians. ******************************************************  
  
Closing Comments~ I started writing again!!! Woo!! Erm, yes. This also turned out more depressing than I intended. So to make up for it, I added Happy!Race. Um, let's see.next chapter is Bumlets! Yay for pretty boy. And today is the birthday for this fic!! Erg, it's taken me a year to write 8 chapters.I'll do better, I promise!!! 


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